


Right. Anyway. Off.

by enjolferre



Category: The Book of Mormon - Parker/Stone/Lopez
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-13
Updated: 2015-10-13
Packaged: 2018-04-26 06:36:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,879
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4994002
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/enjolferre/pseuds/enjolferre
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for a tumblr prompt: "five times McKinley says he doesn't love Kevin, and the one time he admits it."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Right. Anyway. Off.

1\. 

Connor McKinley was the sort of person who wrote in his diary religiously every night, and he’d been doing it since he was ten years old, right at the beginning of fifth grade. His handwriting had improved quite a bit, and there was a period around his sophomore year of high school where he wrote in black ink instead of his usual sparkly pink gel pen, but beyond that, his journaling habits had remained fairly constant, and he considered his diary a friend, in the most non-creepy way. 

_17 May 2011_

_Dear Diary,_

_I don’t love him. Okay, so maybe I wouldn’t mind holding his hand, in some alternate universe where we’re gay and not LDS and not in Uganda and stuff, but, like, that doesn’t mean I love him. That just means he’s pretty and perfect and brilliant and brave and incredible and irresistible and that sort of thing. (This is about Elder Price, by the way.) I mean, I’m really worried about him, but I don’t love him or anything. I’m worried about all of my Elders, so it’s totally no big deal._

_This isn’t like with Steve, promise. It’s totally different. We’re not going through that again, don’t worry - I know better now, and I’m turning it off._

_Not that there’s anything to turn off, I mean, but still. Right. Anyway. Off._

_\- Elder Connor R. McKinley, District Leader_

_P.S. - I don’t love him._

2.  
Honestly, he was surprised that it had taken this long for somebody to ask him. It had been three weeks since they’d been excommunicated from the LDS Church, and so far, nobody had asked about that one particular rule. They’d asked about letting go of other rules, of course, and, for the most part, Connor had agreed to bend them a bit, and mostly for logical reasons, which mostly concerned the overwhelming heat. The ban on swimming was lifted, the insistence on temple garments fall apart, and the coffee taboo disappeared, along with a few other rules. The missionaries were no longer required to shave every morning, regulation haircuts were no longer necessary, and some of the more rebellious former-Elders (read: Elders Poptarts and Neely) even started wearing shorts. All in all, things were going fairly smoothly, until a shy, uncomfortable Elder Zelder knocked on Connor’s door one morning while Poptarts was in the shower.

“Elder McKinley? You know how we’ve been, er, adjusting some of the rules lately?” he asked, fidgeting awkwardly as he spoke. 

“Mhm.”

“I, um, well, I was wondering if there had been any discussion regarding the ban on, er, _homosexualityandkissingboysandstuff_?” 

“I’m not in love with him!” Before poor Elder Zelder could really process what his District Leader had said, Connor was covering his mouth with both hands, eyes wide and face bright pink. 

“You - you _what_? Pardon? I don’t think I heard you right.”

“Right! Right, yeah, you misheard me. I said it hasn’t come up yet, but I’ll be sure to tell you if it does.”

Elder Zelder scurried out of the room before Connor could even think to ask him why he wanted to know.

3\. 

The moment after waking up from a Hell Dream was probably the worst part of the experience. For a good few minutes, he was completely disoriented, and he had to quickly figure out if he was screaming or if he was numb or if he was crying or if he was breathing or if he was going to be sick or if he was even awake at all, and it felt a bit like what he imagined drowning would feel like, but without the relieving hope of finality. 

Not that he ever imagined drowning or hoped for finality.

Eventually, somebody - Elder Poptarts or Satan, he couldn’t tell which - managed to shake him awake.

“I don’t love him! Leave him alone, please, I don’t love him! I’ll do anything, honestly, just don’t hurt him! I don’t - I don’t love him! I don’t - ”

“I know, Elder.” Poptarts’s voice was quiet and soothing, and Connor’s breathing slowly started to settle down as his mission companion gently smoothed his hair back and pulled him close. “I know. It’s okay now, I promise. You’re safe. It was just another Hell Dream.”

“I don’t love him,” Connor whimpered.

“Okay. It’s okay now, you don’t have to tell me. He’s safe. Do we need to go over and see him, or do you think you can just believe me for tonight?”

“How do you know who I’m talking about?”

“I’m your mission companion. I just know.” In his drowsy, exhausted, somewhat-nauseous state, Connor decided to just accept that answer, and soon enough, he was asleep again, focusing on Poptarts’s fingers in his hair instead of his not-love for Elder Price.

4\. 

“Do you have a type, Elder McKinley?”

“Do I have a _what_?”

He should never have agreed to play the question game with Arnold Cunningham. He should have known that it was a bad idea, and he should have known that it wouldn’t end well, and he should have known better than to blindly agree to games with titles as ambiguous as _The Question Game_. But, of course, he had agreed, hoping it would give him a better chance to understand the new prophet of their weird, off-brand sort of Mormonism, and here he was, regretting every decision he’d ever made that led him to this moment.

“A type. Like, a sort of person you’d like to date and marry and stuff, y’know?”

Okay, time to be cool. Cool, collected, and heterosexual. “Tall. Tall, blonde, Mormon.” No, yeah, those were totally traits that could apply to a lady. Or, y’know. Whatever. 

“Oh! So, like, Elder Price?”

“No, not like Elder Price. That’s silly. I don’t know where you all keep getting these ideas. I don’t love Elder Price. Do not love him. Not even a little bit. I have no romantic feelings for Elder Price. Like, not even one teensy little romantic attraction. Nope, I do not love him. No love here, not for him! Ha!” 

“Whoa. Hold on. Hold up there, buddy, friend, pal. You’re the one who brought up love. I just named a random example of a tall, blonde Mormon.” For what it was worth, Elder Cunningham genuinely looked pretty confused. Connor sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose for a moment, then pulled himself together and looked at him.

“Okay. Okay, yeah, right, let’s just forget that ever happened, yeah? Let’s just - _flick_ \- turn off that memory.” 

Arnold nodded and slowly backed out of the living room, leaving Connor to flop down on the couch and glare at Heaven.

5\. 

One of the biggest perks of being excommunicated was the lift on the rule against watching non-church-related movies. Namely, Disney movies. Unfortunately, they were limited to the VHS tapes the Thomas family had mailed them after receiving their son’s letter about the incident, which meant watching _The Little Mermaid_ , _Mulan_ , _Beauty And The Beast_ , _Toy Story 2_ , and _Monsters Inc._ over and over and over. By the time four months had passed since their excommunication, they couldn’t get through a movie without at least half of the group falling asleep.

One night, about halfway through _Mulan_ , Connor looked down to find that Kevin had fallen asleep against his chest, all snuggled up against his side and holding tightly to his tie. Unable to stop himself, Connor carefully slipped off his nametag, which was leaving a bit of an indent on his friend’s cheek, and wrapped an arm around him. For a second there, he even allowed himself to smile and enjoy the proximity. 

“You’re so good to him.” Connor looked up to see Elder Church standing behind the couch, holding the hand of a drowsy, sleepy, swaying Elder Poptarts. “Really, you are. You guys deserve this. It’s really sweet.”

“I don’t love him,” he whispered back, though when Kevin made a quiet little noise and shifted closer, he forgot to remind himself not to adjust the blanket to better keep him comfortable. 

“Are you still doing that? Turning it off, I mean?” Connor nodded, and Elder Church sighed. “Have you ever thought that maybe your Hell Dreams are about lying to yourself? Maybe the gay thoughts aren’t really your problem at all.” Before he had a chance to elaborate, though, Elder Church had to lunge forward to catch poor Elder Thomas, who was barely awake enough to stand. “I’ll drop him off in your room. Don’t wake up Elder Price. And think about what I said. G’night, Elder McKinley.” After prompting a rather pathetic goodnight from Elder Poptarts, the pair disappeared, leaving Connor to figure out whether or not he was going to follow Church’s orders.

He woke up the next morning on the couch after enduring one of the most mild Hell Dreams he’d ever had.

+1. 

Christmas in Uganda was nothing like Christmas at home, but the missionaries tried their hardest to keep it as close as they could. Their first December in Uganda, the temperature dropped to a mind-blowing 61 degrees Fahrenheit, and they used that as an opportunity to wear the homemade Christmas sweaters Mrs. Zelder, Mrs. Church, and Mrs. Thomas had worked together to knit and mail to them, along with a few finger-painted wreaths from Elder Michaels’s younger siblings and a string of plastic Christmas lights and a few basic decorations. 

By the time Christmas Eve came around, they were ready for a good old-fashioned Christmas party, and, though Nabulungi and Mafala were the only ones from the village to attend, they all were having a great time. They sang Christmas carols, ate candy canes, baked cookies, and even held a quick church service, during which Arnold told the story of the nativity in terms of Vulcans and Time Lords. 

After a slightly-sacrilegious chorus of _Hobbits We Have Heard On High_ , it was time to exchange gifts. For the most part, the Elders had decided to buy each other small, basic items, like socks, candy, ties, notebooks, and little trinkets, but that was okay. Everybody was so overwhelmed by the Christmas spirit that they found that there was nothing they wanted more than a heartfelt pair of oversized socks from a good friend.

When Elder Price came over to Elder McKinley a huge grin on his face and a pair of the most garish rainbow socks in his hand, Connor was just expecting a polite _thank you_ , or a _wow, you shouldn’t have_ , or an _I didn’t know socks could have a sexual preference, but this is the gayest footwear I’ve ever seen in my entire life_. 

What he didn’t expect was for Kevin Price to set his _soft, warm, gentle_ hands on his face and pull him in for a _soft, warm, gentle_ kiss.

“Elder Price, what - ”

“Mistletoe, Elder.” Kevin pointed at a tiny, sad-looking piece of jagged green paper taped to the ceiling and grinned cheekily. “Thanks for the socks, though, and this is probably the most heartfelt gift tag I’ve ever received, so thanks for that.” 

Attached to the ridiculous socks was a small white tag, decorated with words written by a pink gel pen:

_To: Elder Kevin Price_

_~~From:~~ _

_All my love, ___

_\- Elder Connor R. McKinley, District Leader_


End file.
